Star Trek Deep Space Nine: STRIDER
by Ael L. Bolt
Summary: In an Alternate Timeline where O’Brien never left DS9, Jem’Hadar still take potshots at StarFleet ships, and Jadzia never died or married Worf, an evil alien lifeform wreaks havoc on Deep Space Nine. (Deadfic.)
1. 1

Star Trek Deep Space Nine: STRIDER  
  
By Admiral Ael Danks  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: Star Trek DS9 belongs to Paramount. I'm only borrowing it for a bit.  
  
Genre: Horror/Mystery  
  
Rating: R (death, graphic description of wounds and corpses)  
  
Codes: B, O'B, D, crew  
  
Summary: In an Alternate Timeline where O'Brien never left DS9, Jem'Hadar still take potshots at StarFleet ships, and Jadzia never died or married Worf, an evil alien lifeform wreaks havoc on Deep Space Nine. Takes place after an alternate "What You Leave Behind."  
  
Author's Notes: This is my first attempt at a DS9 fic, and I've only seen a few episodes. Please bear with me, and don't flame me for any mistakes (point them out kindly instead).  
  
  
  
Prologue  
  
Night.  
  
A gust of wind swept across the desolate plain. Sand blew up, then resettled with the sound of a death rattle. The land was flat and barren, and there was no one to be seen. Nothing could possibly live there. Everything seemed to be painted in grays and blacks. There was no color, only darkness and shadows. Here and there a few clumps of dried vegetation lay strewn about as if tossed aside by a child's whim. Scattered bones poked out of the ground at random intervals, and reddish stains covered the ground, creating the illusion that the entire area was an ocean of blood. Darkness prevailed.  
  
Amongst the ashes and blood, a twisted structure rose into the gray sky. Wrapped in decayed vines, it didn't even look like a building. A jagged hole exposed the innards of the structure to the elements, like a gutted and rotting corpse. The entire area reeked of death and suffering.  
  
Inside the crypt, however, the area was eerily clean. The floors were well polished, but seemed to absorb all light into their onyx depths. The room was huge, easily reaching a hundred feet on each of its three sides and fifty feet overhead.  
  
At the center of the room, a blood-red box sat and waited for someone to come and open it. A name was scratched across the box.  
  
STRIDER.  
  
  
  
Chapter One  
  
The black canvas of space lay open, inviting. Tiny pinpricks of light marked the presence of distant suns, scattered like sand across the vast darkness. A beautiful sphere, ringed with clouds and water, spun serenly as it lazily orbited a bright star. The system was called Bajor, and the planet shared the same name as well.  
  
Also orbiting the bright sun was a dark, spidery framework of metal and reddish lights. The structure had a cylinder in the center, with large red lights on the bottom and several decks above. A ring of metal encircled the top of the cylinder, connected to it via three wide, long corridors. An even larger ring, even farther away from the center, was attached to the first ring by three long, mostly hollowed-out support struts. At the end of each corridor, a long, inwardly-curving pylon extended from the top of the ring. An identical pylon took shape below each upper structure in a three- dimensional reflection.  
  
Behind that entire structure, the space station known as Deep Space Nine, a blue-and-orange ripple spread. The ripple opened like a flower, allowing a tiny ship to enter the tunnel created by the anomaly. The ship disappeared into the light, and the gateway vanished also. That gateway was known as the Celestial Temple of the Bajoran Prophets, but StarFleet personnel referred to it as "the wormhole." The sight of the phenomenon was soothing to many who watched, even if they were non-Bajorans.  
  
Down in the Infirmary of DS9, however, Doctor and Chief Medical Officer Julian Bashir was unaware of the wormhole's activity. Instead, he faced his adversary over a desk, trying futilely to work on a medical report while arguing.  
  
Bashir was a handsome man of British/Arabic descent. Tall for a human, he reached nearly 6 and a half feet. His hair was a dark brown, so dark it often appeared to be black, and his eyes were of a similar shade. Due to childhood genetic enhancements, everything about the man was nearly perfect. All of his senses were high above normal human levels, as well as various other skills in both physical and mental areas. Only in his thirties, most humanoids considered Bashir to be too young to be a doctor. Despite complaints about his age, the young human excelled in the medical field. However, one thing he lacked was the ability to convince certain people to give up.  
  
"Look, Miles...I told you, I don't have time for a dart game tonight," the doctor said with a soft British accent. "I've got to finish filing these reports."  
  
"Oh, come on, Julian," Miles O'Brien tried again, his Irish accent coming through as he became slightly frustrated.  
  
O'Brien was also a human, from the same general region of Earth as Bashir. Though he was not quite as tall as Bashir, his height was average for a human of his age. His hair was short and curly, and seemed to show off the dark blond color wherever he went. O'Brien served as Chief of Operations on Deep Space Nine, even though he was a non-commissioned officer. Through many arguements and confrontations, he had eventually become Bashir's best friend. He had been the first to hear of Bashir's genetic enhancements, in full detail, from Bashir himself. During their off hours, the two friends usually played darts in Quark's Bar or took up a game of racquetball on O'Brien's personal court.  
  
O'Brien tried again. "We haven't played darts in almost two weeks. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were avoiding me."  
  
Bashir hid a sigh. "It's not that, Chief..."  
  
"Good, then I'll meet you at Quark's in half an hour." Without giving Bashir time to protest, O'Brien turned around and left the Infirmary.  
  
"Damn."  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Quark's Bar took up three levels of the Promenade, and was run by a group of money-loving Ferengi. The bar included holosuites, the dart board, a Dabo wheel, and drink replicators that were fully programmed for almost any kind of beverage. The bar was quite popular amongst off-duty personnel, as well as civilians. Occasionally, a visiting being would drop in to pay Quark, the owner of the bar, a visit. Illegal transactions were not at all uncommon, and shapeshifter security chief Odo was always watching the Ferengi in hopes of catching him red-handed. Which happened quite often, as it turns out.  
  
The bar was crowded, as usual. Bashir scanned the crowd for O'Brien, and finally spotted him near the dart board. Bashir made his way through the crowd, and finally ended up somewhere near O'Brien.  
  
"A bit crowded for darts, don't you think?" Bashir asked, raising his voice to be heard over the din. "I'm afraid I'll hit someone wandering through." He meaningfully glanced at the back of the room, where he usually stood for their dart games. The extra distance was a sort of handicap for the genetically-enhanced doctor, so that O'Brien could still have a chance against his superior hand-eye coordination.  
  
"Actually," O'Brien said, leaning against the bar, "I was thinking we could join the rest of the senior staff in Holosuite 2."  
  
Bashir was suddenly suspicious. "All right, what in the galaxy did you plan for me?" he demanded.  
  
O'Brien flinched. He hadn't expected Bashir to pick up on it that fast. "What makes you think we're doing something?" he asked, trying to act casual.  
  
"Because whenever you try to get me into something that I don't know about, your fingers twitch," Bashir answered immediately. "It's a dead give-away, if you ask me. Which you did. So, what is it you have planned for me this time?"  
  
O'Brien was saved from answering by the arrival of Jadzia Dax. Jadzia was a Trill: a humanoid with dark spots on her face and neck. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her eyes missed nothing. On the outside, she appeared fairly normal. However, she was a Joined Trill. Being a Joined Trill meant that she carried a three-hundred-year-old symbiont, which looked rather like a slug, inside of her. The symbiont, which was named Dax, was mentally attached to Jadzia. The two were merged together, and the Dax symbiont also held the memories and experiences of the seven previous Dax hosts.  
  
"Chief, I see you found Bellerophon," Dax said with a grin. "Come on, Julian, let's get over to the holosuite." She grabbed him by the arm and began to haul him in the direction of the holosuites.  
  
Bashir cast a confused glance in O'Brien's direction, but the Chief only shrugged and smiled, following along. "It's a tradition I brought over from the Enterprise," O'Brien finally said as they neared the holosuite doors. "I hope you don't mind."  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
From a thousand feet in the air, Bashir's outraged voice called out, "Miles, when I get done with this thing I'm going to kill you too!"  
  
The doctor was bedecked in light armor, with a shield on his left arm and a sharp sword in his right hand. Being skilled in the use of a British broadsword, the lighter weapon wasn't too hard to wield. His shield displayed the StarFleet crest, with a stylized pair of wings outstretched from behind the emblem and curved forward as if to cradle the symbol. His armor consisted of interlocking, thin but strong metal that protected almost his entire body, only leaving his face and hands unshielded.  
  
He sat astride a magnificent silvery horse. The horse was extremely muscular and fleet, and sported a large pair of wings that seemed to sprout from its shoulders. The Pegasus, for that's what it was, wore a jeweled gold bridle that caught the sun and reflected spears of light in every direction. Pegasus snorted and shifted about impatiently. It turned its head and gave Bashir its most reassuring look.  
  
Beneath the pair was a monster, straight out of Greek mythology. It was the Chimera: a snakelike creature with the head of a lion, the head of a snake, and the head of an ugly goat. Smoke billowed from the nostrils of all three heads, and it reached up with its wicked talons to try and swat the winged horse and its rider from the sky.  
  
Of course, the entire ordeal was holographic, but Bashir didn't exactly care at that moment in time. He was only aware of the winged horse, the monster, and his fury. Even so, he knew he had to complete this trial if he was to achieve his goal and win his prize.  
  
Signaling Pegasus to charge, Bashir hefted his sword and made a slash as they passed the creature. Pegasus flew so swiftly, he couldn't tell if he'd done any damage to the monster at first.  
  
Then the winged horse swung around, and Bashir could see that the goat's head had been almost completely hacked off, held on only by a thin flap of skin. But even as the goat's head ceased to smoke, the other two heads became more furious and their smoke increased. Roaring and hissing in rage, the Chimera breathed massive streams of raging flame at Bashir.  
  
Pegasus nearly caught the twin blasts, but Bashir reacted quickly and signaled the flying beast to dive down low, under the inferno. He felt the heat singe his hair, and sparks flew off his shoulder plates.  
  
"Another pass, Pegasus!" he called to the flighted stallion, and it whinnied in response. Pegasus once again dove toward the Chimera, and it threw flames at them.  
  
Bashir ducked the fire and stabbed blindly upward with the sword. He felt part of his armor melt at the heat, but the sword hit something solid.  
  
Prancing away again in midair, Pegasus darted out of the reach of the wounded creature. The lion's head was mortally wounded, roaring in pain. Thick, steaming blood gushed from an ugly slash on its forehead. The head finally went limp, and the smoke left it.  
  
The snake's head, on the other hand, had become twice as fierce and venomous as before. It struck out at Pegasus and Bashir, cutting the horse's wing and dealt a harsh blow to the doctor's sword arm. Bashir cried out in pain and anxiety as Pegasus also began to scream in agony.  
  
"Come on, Pegasus, it's not that much more," Bashir said through the excruciating pain. "Just one more pass, and it dies."  
  
The horse calmed slightly, and though it still flew as if drunk it could still maneuver enough to attack the Chimera yet again. Turning in a pirouette, the mythical horse faced the hissing, spitting monster again.  
  
This time, as the snake's head opened its jaws to deliver another blast, Bashir directed Pegasus to fly almost directly into the creature's mouth. He held up his shield as the flames beat at him, fighting to keep from crying out as a bit of the fire reached around and swiped across his face.  
  
The Chimera clamped its wicked talons around Pegasus, reaching down with its one remaining head to tear at the vulnerable rider. But in doing so, it left its chest completely unprotected.  
  
Taking his chance, Bashir thrust his sword deep into the Chimera's heart. The monster shrieked, and then released its grip on Pegasus and Bashir. It fell over, dead at last. The Chimera's fire, instead of being put out, consumed the entire beast until there was only ashes and bones left.  
  
From the ground, the command staff burst into applause. Glaring down at them, Bashir signaled Pegasus to land in front of them. He jumped off the winged horse before it got a chance to land, and then held out his uninjured hand. "Okay, 'King Iobates'," Bashir said somewhat sarcastically to Sisko, "I've come for my reward."  
  
Sisko grinned and dropped Bashir's prize into the doctor's hand. "Congratulations on your promotion, Lieutenant-Commander Bashir!"  
  
As the simulated battleground shimmered and disappeared, so did Bashir's wounds. His armor reverted back to a standard StarFleet uniform, and he reached up to the collar of his shirt. When he took his hand away, three pips shone brightly on his neck. He finally grinned at his friends. "Well, I must say, that's certainly the oddest thing I've ever done for a promotion..."  
  
The group exited the holosuite, and were greeted by Quark, who already had drinks poured in celebration of Bashir's promotion. Bashir narrowed his eyes at the Ferengi, who made no effort to conceal his hope that someone would hand over a few bars of gold-pressed latinum. "Did everyone know about this promotion except me?" the doctor asked.  
  
O'Brien shrugged and grabbed a glass of scotch from Quark's tray. "Probably, considering that's how Enterprise tradition usually goes. When Deanna Troi got promoted, we threw her to the lions."  
  
Bashir laughed. "I'm sure she was utterly thrilled."  
  
"That she was," O'Brien said cheerfully. He looked over at the dartboard. "Well, want to get in a game tonight?"  
  
Bashir shrugged. "I suppose so, if you want to. But just one."  
  
While the rest of the senior staff got their own drinks, O'Brien and Bashir made their way over to the dartboard. O'Brien picked up Bashir's darts and handed them to the doctor, then picked up his own and took aim. The crowd had somewhat cleared around the dartboard area, thereby eliminating the danger of someone losing an eye.  
  
"So how's it feel to be another step up the rank ladder?" O'Brien asked as he released his first dart. A double ten.  
  
Bashir considered that for a moment, twirling a dart around in his fingers. "Not much different than being a Lieutenant," he admitted. "Although that could be because you had me go up against that awful Chimera in order to get my pips."  
  
"Hey, it's tradition." O'Brien's second dart hit the thirty-point section of the dartboard. "Can't argue with that."  
  
"No, I suppose not." Bashir watched in mild amusement as O'Brien's third dart struck the triple-thirteen. The Irishman stepped forward and removed his darts from the board.  
  
"Come on, Chief," Bashir said with a smile, "let me show you how a real man plays darts." He moved to his usual spot, near the back of the room, and took aim. His first dart hit the bullseye, directly in the center.  
  
O'Brien raised an eyebrow. "Been practicing?"  
  
"Not really," Bashir said, aiming with the second. "This distance should still be a challenge for me." He nearly freaked out when the second dart also hit the center of the bullseye, deeply scratching the side of the first dart.  
  
He glanced over at O'Brien, who was staring at the dartboard in astonishment. "Uh...Julian? How the hell are you doing that?" O'Brien asked, shocked.  
  
Bashir shook his head in confusion. "I'm going to try something." He closed his eyes and raised his arm, trying to feel for where to throw the dart. Drawing his hand back, he snapped his wrist forward and released the dart.  
  
Thunk.  
  
He opened his eyes. The third dart had hit center, knocking the first two completely off the board.  
  
"So much for my blindfold idea," O'Brien said, still stunned.  
  
"Miles, I'm sorry," Bashir said after a moment, still staring at the darts.  
  
O'Brien shook his head. "For what? For winning?"  
  
Bashir faltered. "I'm...going to go get some sleep. See you tomorrow, Miles." He was gone before the Chief could protest. 


	2. 2

Chapter Two  
  
A week after Bashir's battle against the Chimera, the Defiant was called out to investigate some odd energy readings from a nearby solar system. A passing scout ship had noted the lack of lifeforms on the planet, yet had picked up readings that indicated a massive amount of abandoned computers and advanced technology. Naturally, StarFleet Command wanted the planet surveyed to discover how advanced the native peoples were, and why they had all disappeared.  
  
With Deep Space Nine being the closest StarFleet-commanded vessel to the planet, the Defiant was to be dispatched immediately to investigate.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Before the away team had finished materializing, O'Brien was already overwhelmed by the stench. Covering his mouth and nose with his hand, he blurted out, "Oh, this is bloody rosy!"  
  
"Bloody's the word," Bashir agreed, stifling a cough. "This is sick."  
  
"Remind me why I came along, again."  
  
Bashir already had his tricorder out and was doing his best to ignore the foul odor of rotted bodies. "Because I need you to analyze any technology of theirs that we find," he said, eyes scanning the bleak horizon. "This entire civilization went extinct nearly a hundred years ago, yet there's indications that they could be a thousand times more advanced than the Federation." He looked up. "There's a building of some sort over there," he said, pointing. "Perhaps there's something helpful inside."  
  
Bashir's tagalong ensigns, Pynon and Sibrawa, were doing their best not to look disgusted as the four-man away team stepped over the awful red stains.  
  
Pynon was a Krleiuvan: a humanoid with distinct draconic features. He had a short, scaled snout that always made him appear very mournful. A thin, sturdy crest started between his eye ridges and stretched down to his shoulders. A whiplike tail thrashed behind him, and his clawed fingers clutched his tricorder nervously. Pynon was rather jumpy by nature, being from the rather timid Iyleu subspecies. However, he had found a friend in Sibrawa.  
  
G'ralarr Sibrawa was a Catian male: a felinoid with a long tail, and daggerlike fangs that made him look like one of ancient Earth's saber- toothed tigers. His fur was a tawny yellow-orange, and his large dish- shaped ears constantly swiveled and twitched, listening to every sound. Though he was a biped, he always looked as if he was on the verge of falling on his face. Not that anyone would ever dare tell him, of course, out of fear he would bite their arm off.  
  
Both of the ensigns were new transfers from StarFleet Medical Academy, and they were under Bashir's authority until the U.S.S. El Dorado could come to Deep Space Nine and pick them up.  
  
The away team quickly found the structure, and stepped through the gaping hole in the side. As soon as Bashir crossed the threshold of the room, a chill swept over him. Shrugging it off, he scanned the room with his tricorder. "Well Miles, there's some computer equipment in here somewhere. Care to have a look?"  
  
O'Brien's eyes lit up, and for a moment he actually was able to ignore the ever-present stench. He quickly crossed the room and began poking into the deserted technology.  
  
Pynon and Sibrawa began to record information on their tricorders. Atmosphere, temperature, and other related things that could prove useful in the medical analysis. Bashir watched them for a moment, and then, satisfied with how they were carrying out their duties, began to explore the room himself.  
  
A set of hieroglyphs on the wall caught his attention. Walking over, he began to record the images on his tricorder. What interested him the most, however, was the image of a reptilian figure surrounded by a reddish mist. The reptile looked as if it was screaming as it was depicted as mass murdering thousands of its kind. Underneath the picture was a single word: STRIDER.  
  
Glancing around, Bashir's gaze fell on an abandoned box. Stepping closer, he scanned it and determined that there were no booby traps. Feeling a bit braver, he knelt down and opened the lid of the box.  
  
Inside the box, small flat tiles lay in piles inside the box. Each one had a hieroglyph on it, in black ink or something close to ink. All except the one on top.  
  
The top tile had a blood-red symbol on it that resembled an S. Bashir's curiosity got the best of him, and he reached down to pick it up. As his fingers closed around it, an eerie feeling swept through him.  
  
Bashir suddenly realized that he couldn't move. He tried to call out for O'Brien, or the ensigns, but his vocal cords were paralyzed, just like his body.  
  
A handful of the other tiles began to glow red, and hovered in the air in front of Bashir's face. They slowly began to rearrange themselves, and the hieroglyphs suddenly changed into Federation Standard letters.  
  
Half of the tiles spelled out B-A-S-H-I-R.  
  
Bashir's eyes went wide, but then he saw what the other half was doing. The red tile slipped from his frozen hand, and slammed into the beginning of the first word.  
  
One-by-one, in rapid sequence, the letters lit up in a bloody red color. S- T-R-I-D-E-R.  
  
And then he was engulfed by a red haze that reeked of death and decay.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
"Julian? Julian, can you hear me?"  
  
"Urgh...someone get the registry of that runabout," Bashir muttered, dazed. He opened his eyes, and then quickly closed them again as painful light stabbed at his vision.  
  
"Julian, are you okay?"  
  
He tried again, this time slowly. O'Brien's concerned face swam into view as Bashir's vision cleared, and the doctor suddenly realized that he was lying flat on his back. His head ached fiercely, and he felt as if the room temperature was suddenly too cold for his liking. He shivered slightly. "Uh...Miles? What happened?"  
  
O'Brien hesitated. "We were hoping you could tell us. What's the last thing you remember?"  
  
Bashir made an effort to concentrate, and finally managed to form a mostly coherent thought. "Uh...I remember beaming down, and looking around this room...but nothing past that." For some strange reason, that thought didn't bother him as much as he felt it should.  
  
"Do you think you can at least sit up?"  
  
"I'll try." Moving slowly to keep the headache to a minimum, he levered himself upright. Confident that he wouldn't fall over, he reached up to touch his head. "Oh, I don't feel so good."  
  
"Sibrawa says you've got a concussion. Take it easy, I'll call for beam- up." Bashir heard the chirp of O'Brien's commbadge. "O'Brien to Defiant, Julian's been hurt. Requesting beam-up."  
  
"Acknowledged," Dax's voice replied. Her tone held a touch of worry. "Should I have a medical team standing by?"  
  
"No, he's not hurt too badly," O'Brien answered. "Just a concussion. I'll get him to Sickbay once we're aboard."  
  
"All right, Chief. Stand by." Several moments passed, in which O'Brien and Bashir began to shimmer. The effect was abruptly cut off, and from the other side of the communications link an explosion could be heard in the background.  
  
"Dax, what's going on?" O'Brien called, immediately on the alert.  
  
"We've been sabotaged," Dax answered after a moment. "The transporters have been taken out completely. It'll take maybe a day to fix them. Will Julian be okay if we can't beam you up soon?"  
  
O'Brien looked over at Bashir. The doctor's eyes were closed, but a flicker of pain passed over his face. Sibrawa fairly hovered behind him, tricorder still in his hand.  
  
"I'm not sure, but I think so. Let us know the instant you can beam us up. O'Brien out." The channel closed, and he turned back to Bashir. "Hey, don't you be falling asleep now. You're a doctor, you should know better."  
  
After a few moments, Bashir opened his eyes. "I know that. Sorry, Miles. That's really easy advice from a medical perspective but it's downright impossible right now." As if to prove his point, his eyes nearly shut again. He forced them open and looked around. "Why didn't we beam up?"  
  
"The ship's been sabotaged," O'Brien answered. "It'll be a few hours yet."  
  
Bashir picked up his own tricorder, which had fallen beside him when he had lost consciousness. He took a moment to scan himself, and frowned at the readings. "Miles, would you do me a favor?"  
  
"Sure. What?"  
  
"Keep me awake for the next six hours."  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
None of the officers were particularly thrilled at having to stay inside the chamber, but it was better than being outside with the blood and piles of bones. Sibrawa and Pynon finished scanning the chamber, and were positive that there were no booby traps set nor were any lifeforms nearby except the away team. The strange energy readings persisted, however.  
  
After seven hours had passed, Sibrawa gave Bashir a mild sedative and a painkiller. The doctor immediately went to sleep next to one of the walls, using his uniform jacket as a pillow. After making sure he was sleeping soundly, O'Brien started looking around for a possible cause for Bashir's injury.  
  
The structure was rather large, and seemed to resemble an ancient Egyptian burial crypt more than anything else. In the middle of the room, where Bashir had collapsed, there was a raised platform. A blood-red box, lid displaced, was tipped over on its side on the platform. A reddish-black dust was scattered around the entire area, as well as on Bashir himself. But there were no low-hanging support beams, large objects, or anything else that could have caused Bashir to fall.  
  
O'Brien figured that Bashir had probably received his concussion upon contact with the edge of the platform. The bit of blood splattered on the spot where Bashir's head had been, and a matching patch of blood on the doctor's forehead, were indications of that. But he still couldn't discover why Bashir had collapsed in the first place.  
  
After about an hour, he became aware that someone was staring at him. Glancing up, he saw Bashir leaning against the wall, gazing at him in mild curiosity. "What are you doing?" the doctor asked.  
  
"Trying to figure out how the hell you got knocked over," O'Brien answered. "You sure you don't remember it?"  
  
"Positive."  
  
O'Brien sighed. "So much for the easy way out. How's your head?"  
  
"Doesn't hurt much anymore," Bashir answered while scanning himself. "It looks like my enhancements finally decided to give me a hand in healing."  
  
As if in response, O'Brien commbadge chirped. "Defiant to away team." It was Dax's voice.  
  
"O'Brien here. Please tell me you've got good news, Jadzia."  
  
"Sorry Chief, but no can do. There's a Jem'Hadar warship that just dropped out of warp. Commander Sisko thinks they've been tracking us. We're moving to intercept but I think they might be trying to beam down some soldiers to the planet."  
  
"Can't you even send us a few phasers?" Bashir cut in.  
  
The pause after this question made it clear that Dax wanted to ask about Bashir's health, but duty won out over concern. "The personnel transporters aren't working, but I suppose we could try to jury-rig one of the cargo transporters...we could really use you up here, Chief."  
  
"All right, get us a few phaser rifles if you can," O'Brien said after a moment. "Away team out."  
  
Bashir slowly stood up, looking around. "Where are Sibrawa and Pynon?"  
  
"They found another small building nearby," O'Brien said. "They went off exploring after you fell asleep."  
  
Before Bashir could inquire further, the sound of Dominion transporters filled the air. Three Jem'Hadar soldiers materialized in front of the gaping hole in the wall. All three had disrupters drawn and aimed already.  
  
Before O'Brien could even think about saying anything, there was a blur of motion. Bloody gashes appeared across one of the Jem'Hadar's neck, and he fell over, dead. A second Jem'Hadar went down a moment later, deep puncture wounds in his back. The third was able to fire at the blur, but the disrupter was quickly ripped away. The Jem'Hadar's arm went with it.  
  
O'Brien glanced over Bashir, who was still standing in the same place as if in shock. His eyes were fixed on the dying Jem'Hadar soldier, who was cursing in a variety of languages. The alien finally jerked once, and then lay still on the cold floor. Blood stretched in a disgusting pool around the three dead bodies.  
  
Bashir backed up as a thin stream of blood ran across the floor in his direction. He stepped sideways, letting the miniature river run past him and into the wall.  
  
"Bloody hell," O'Brien finally breathed. Bashir only nodded in response. "If that's the response the Jem'Hadar got out of this place, why in space haven't we gotten the same thing?"  
  
"Maybe whatever-it-was reacts to transporter beams. Or maybe they just like us using the doors," Bashir suggested dryly.  
  
Sibrawa and Pynon came running. "Sir!" Pynon shouted. "We heard disrupter shots and-" He froze at the sight of the mutilated Jem'Hadar.  
  
Bashir tapped his commbadge. "Bashir to Defiant."  
  
"Dax here. Go ahead, Julian."  
  
"Did you get that Jem'Hadar ship yet?" he asked.  
  
"It self-destructed about ten seconds ago. Why?"  
  
"We had company," O'Brien remarked.  
  
"Had?" Dax sounded confused.  
  
"Evidently, the presence of three Jem'Hadar soldiers was enough to set off some kind of security system," Bashir replied. "They're all dead."  
  
She uttered an oath in her own language. "Are you all okay?"  
  
"Yes, and Julian's got a theory on that," O'Brien said. Bashir shot him a glare, and O'Brien shrugged. "Something like transporter detectors."  
  
There was a beeping noise, and Nog's voice filtered through the tiny speaker. "Got it!"  
  
Bashir could swear he heard Jadzia smile. "And speaking of which...good news. We've got a working transporter now!"  
  
O'Brien breathed a somewhat exaggerated sigh of relief. "Thank heavens. I'm not willing to stick around any longer that I have to. This place gives me the creeps."  
  
"You're not the only one," Bashir agreed. "Prepared to beam up."  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
The strange energy readings from the planet disappeared almost as soon as the away team beamed up. Disappointed that they hadn't had a chance to study the phenonmenon, the Defiant crew entered a course back to Deep Space Nine. 


	3. 3

Chapter Three  
  
The Defiant docked at Deep Space Nine late that night. O'Brien immediately set to work on the battle damage, with the help of his favorite repair crew. Pynon and Sibrawa went for a walk around the Promenade to compare readings from the planet. Bashir, for his part, announced that he was checking into the Infirmary and then going to sleep uninterrupted for ten hours.  
  
Bashir walked into the Infirmary. Its clean, sterilized smell and appearance reassured him that he was indeed back on the station. None of the nurses were on duty, except one young Bajoran who was in the back of the room and wouldn't see Bashir.  
  
Bashir grabbed a few medical instruments and quickly finished the healing of his head, sealing up the small cut above his right eye. Then he ran a dermal regenerator over his arm, where an angry red burn nearly glowed among the tattered remains of his left sleeve. Within a few minutes, the burn had faded and was replaced by new skin.  
  
Satisfied with his self-treatment, Bashir put the equipment away. Taking one last look at the Bajoran nurse, to reassure himself that he had not been seen, he slipped out the doors and headed for the habitat ring.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Pynon and Sibrawa walked along the middle level of the Promenade. The two were deep in a discussion about the readings from the dead planet. Neither one heard the creature that stealthily crept up behind them.  
  
One moment, Pynon was chatting and pointing out an odd flux in the readings. The next, steel spikes rammed through the Krleiuvan's head, cutting loose a spray of blood and chunks of the alien's brain. The dragon- like head split open as if it were a melon, exposing what was left of his brain. Dark orange blood gushed out, creating a sticky pool nearly five feet across.  
  
Sibrawa snarled and leaped backwards, turning to look at whatever had killed his friend. He saw nothing but the shadows of the Promenade. No one was around due to the late hour, and there were no footprints left behind.  
  
Growling uneasily, the saber-toothed Catian knelt down next to Pynon's body. The spikes were gone, but the severe damage remained. Sibrawa didn't even need a second glance to tell that the Krleiuvan was dead. He slapped his commbadge. "Sibrawa to Security!"  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
"You're sure?" Odo asked.  
  
Sibrawa nodded. "Yes, Constable. The exact same thing happened on the planet. It is my belief that we may have brought something on board, sir."  
  
Odo reacted instantly. "Odo to Ops, intruder alert."  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
[Wake up, Julian...]  
  
Bashir groaned and rolled over, hoping the noise would go away. He wanted to go back to the comfortable blackness of sleep, and made every effort to stay in that comfortable area.  
  
[Julian....Jules...]  
  
Bashir growled and opened one eye slightly. "What?" he muttered as he noticed something odd. Opening both eyes, he was surprised to find that he was leaning against the wall of his quarters, next to the door. His commbadge was lying on the floor next to him, as well as his rank pips. He had his legs folded in such a way that his knees were against his chest, and his arms were draped across them. His head was resting on his forearms. He was surprised to feel that his whole body was aching. His legs and arms hurt the worst, though. He figured that was from the position he had been sleeping in, but he was unable to explain why he wasn't in bed.  
  
He carefully straightened himself out and stood up, unsteadily limping over to his bed. He sat down on top of the sheets, wondering why he hadn't been in it before.  
  
Before he could get too far in his musings, however, his commbadge activated. "Infirmary to Bashir." The voice on the other end was young, nervous, and female. The Bajoran nurse.  
  
He reached out and slapped the badge, ignoring the heaviness in his arm. "Bashir. Go ahead, Nurse Lena."  
  
"Sorry to disturb you, Doctor."  
  
"Not at all," he said, his mind drawn back to the oddity of finding himself sleeping against the wall. "I'm assuming there was an important reason for awakening me."  
  
"Ensign Pynon's been murdered."  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
The station was put on Red Alert, and security guards patrolled the corridors. Bashir managed to get to the Infirmary, and his examination of Pynon's corpse was brief.  
  
"Death caused by rather obvious means," he said, trying to keep himself from punching a nearby bulkhead in frustration. He pulled the sheet over Pynon's draconic face. "It's got to be the same thing we found on the planet."  
  
"You're positive?" Odo asked from behind him.  
  
"I saw the Jem'Hadar bodies. This is definitely that thing's handiwork," Bashir confirmed. "But how did it sneak aboard the Defiant?"  
  
Odo didn't bother to answer. He tapped his communicator pin. "Odo to O'Brien. Chief, we need you to calibrate the sensors for an intensive sweep of the station. See if you can find anything out of the ordinary."  
  
"Acknowledged. I'm on my way to Ops now."  
  
"Whatever we're dealing with is definitely a sick, twisted creature," Bashir muttered. "I'll be able to rest easier when that thing is in custody."  
  
"You're not the only one," Nurse Lena added. The young Bajoran looked nervous, as if she expected the murderer to suddenly leap out and take the blame - or the credit - for what it had done.  
  
Bashir forced a smile. "Don't worry too much. Odo's a good detective. If anyone can figure out who did it, it's Odo." But inside, he wasn't so sure.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
By the next day, nearly the whole station knew about the murder. Visiting ship owners were angry when they were not allowed to leave the station, and Kira spent all morning trying to explain that the murderer might try to sneak aboard their ships unnoticed.  
  
O'Brien's sensor scans only detected a faint energy spike, similar to the one the crew of the Defiant had recorded from the dead planet. However, the pulse was so weak it would take a few days of work to home in on the signal. It wasn't much of a lead, but it was all they had that connected the intruder to the planet.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Sibrawa prowled the Promenade, closely examining the area for any clues that would tell him who or what the killer was. He was so intent on the search, in fact, he never heard the creature approach again.  
  
In the blink of an eye, five razor-sharp spikes tore through the Catian's stomach, ripping it open. Sibrawa looked down in disbelief as his own intestines spilled out of the incision. It finally occured to him to scream for help, but then there was something gripping him by the throat. The sounds of something breathing came softly in his right ear as the thing held him upright.  
  
"No witnesses," the thing growled, its voice low and almost inaudible. Then with a quick movement, the thing snapped Sibrawa's neck and let go of the big alien. The Catian was dead before he hit the floor.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Doctor Bashir did punch the wall this time. He kicked his desk so hard, it almost went flying into the nearest door. Then he clenched his fists and tried to get his anger and frustration under control.  
  
"I can't believe there was another murder," he finally said. He ran a hand through mussed hair, but it was almost an automatic action. The doctor had been dragged out of bed yet again to perform an autopsy, and he wasn't too happy about it.  
  
"Come on, Julian, it can't be that bad," O'Brien said half-heartedly.  
  
"Oh, yes it can." Bashir turned to face him. "Think about it, Chief. What do the murders have in common?" At O'Brien's confused expression, he continued. "Pynon and Sibrawa were both on the away team to the planet where we supposedly picked this creature up. I'm sure you can recall who *else* was on that mission." The sudden absence of color in the Irishman's face made it clear that he remembered perfectly.  
  
"Do you think we could be next?"  
  
Bashir sighed. "I think it's a fair bet to say we should watch our backs until the intruder's caught. I don't want anything to happen to you, and I'm not in the mood to get brutally slaughtered either."  
  
"For once, something we can both agree on."  
  
Bashir glared at him.  
  
"Okay, okay, sorry." O'Brien put his hands up in a mock-surrender. "No need to get mad at me. You sure have been irritable lately."  
  
"You would be too, if you had to examine two dead people in two nights. So if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see if I can actually get in a full night's sleep." With that, Bashir stormed out of the Infirmary.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
As the door closed behind him, Bashir sighed and leaned against the wall, allowing himself to slowly slide down until he was sitting on the floor. He didn't even move once he reached the cold deck. He stared down at his hands blankly, a million thoughts running through his head. Who was the murderer? What was it? How did it get on the station? How long before he could go about his normal life?  
  
Bashir was so deep in thought, he didn't even notice when questions gave way to dreams. The doctor fell asleep, leaning against the wall.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
O'Brien kept an eye on the monitors while he calibrated the sensors. The specific monitor he was watching showed the faint energy pulse, as well as the measurements on the amount of power it was giving off. So far, the readings hadn't changed.  
  
The chief finished with the sensors, and turned to another screen. "All right, you little bugger, where are you?" he muttered to himself as he set the computer to home in on the energy source.  
  
The computer beeped, and politely brought up a map of the habitat ring. A red circle was drawn around part of the diagram, indicating the source of the energy. The surge was being generated from someone's quarters.  
  
O'Brien checked, then double-checked the readings in disbelief. The signal was coming from Bashir's quarters.  
  
'Oh, hell! Julian!'  
  
He slapped his commbadge. "O'Brien to Bashir."  
  
No response.  
  
He tried again. "Doctor Bashir, please respond."  
  
Still nothing.  
  
"Dammit Julian, answer me!"  
  
This time, Bashir's sleepy voice came through the tiny speaker. "You know, some people are trying to sleep."  
  
O'Brien wasn't in the mood for word games. "Sorry Julian, but I just thought you'd like to know...remember that weird energy source we've been suspecting as the intruder?"  
  
"Yes..."  
  
"Well, it's currently in your quarters."  
  
There was a short pause, and then Bashir cursed. Rather loudly. "Well, that's just dandy. I swear, this is a conspiracy." There was another pause. "Well, if it was going to kill me, it must really be having second thoughts. I don't see any sign of...whatever it is."  
  
"Oh, it's there. Trust me."  
  
"Maybe it's just hiding out in here, and it's really a harmless creature that's taken the blame for our mysterious murderer. But if you'd like to bring down a scanning crew to find out where exactly it is, be my guest."  
  
"Don't mind if I do. Expect visitors in about ten minutes."  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
As half-way expected, the scanning crew couldn't find anything once they got there. Bashir got annoyed after the fourth scan, and summarily kicked his unwanted visitors out, growling that he just wanted to get some uninterrupted sleep. O'Brien began to protest that if the murderer was still there, it might kill him, but Bashir wouldn't listen. He all but shoved the engineers out of his quarters.  
  
On his way out, O'Brien noticed an odd set of five parallel scratches on the inside of Bashir's door. The lines were almost perfectly straight, and they looked as if they'd been made by a set of claws. The Irishman glanced back at Bashir, who was waiting impatiently for him to leave, and made a mental note to check on it later when Bashir wasn't in such a bad mood. 


End file.
